Floating Away
by Hawkeye116
Summary: The Avatar had spoken to him, spoken of a long forgotten time when the world was at peace. The Airbender had had a friend, a friend of the Fire Nation. ...More importantly, the Avatar had offered Zuko friendship. Oneshot, post Blue Spirit.


A/N: Here's a kind of oddball fic that I wrote straight after seeing "The Blue Spirit." That was one heck of a riveting episode, no?

I have decided to make this a one-shot. Btw, this wontwo awards back in August from Enticity's old fanfic awards site: Unseen Path's Beautifully Written Award and also, theHercules Award.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to Avatar: The Last Airbender.

* * *

Floating Away

* * *

He couldn't sleep. His thoughts were driving him insane. Why had he done it? What would he do now? Would Zhao be coming after him? 

He shoved his face into his pillow, exhausted. He didn't want to look at the tapestry of the Fire Nation insignia to his left; it disgusted him, looking upon it. He was certain his father knew… He hated his father with all his heart, his soul, and his mind… His father had taken away the one chance for him to restore his honor. Nothing would ever be the same. Nothing.

Zuko sat up, restless. The ship rocked lightly underneath him, but he paid no mind to it. Nothing mattered anymore. He'd never be going home. At least Zhao wouldn't be getting the Avatar any time soon. _That_ was a good thing for Zuko, to say the least.

The Avatar had spoken to him, spoken of a long-forgotten time when the world was at peace. The Airbender had a friend, a friend of the Fire Nation.

More importantly, the Avatar had offered Zuko friendship.

A prince of the Fire Nation, a good friend of the Avatar? It was unheard of. He would have no honor then, none at all.

But, did he even have any left? There was no time to think, no time to ponder about the Avatar, for Zhao had every minute as an advantage, and could track down the Avatar easily with his new rank of Admiral.

He grunted in frustration, his mindful fitful and crowded with hoards of thoughts. They streamed through his brain, going to another place, another, taking him down different paths of where he could go, what he could do, why his father had done such a thing…

Certainly his father didn't despise him _that_ much! He was his father's own son. But the man was vicious; even he, who had been protected by his uncle, knew that.

He closed his eyes, focusing as best he could to try to become calm. He sat down next to a candle unknowingly and controlled it, making its flame smaller, larger, smaller, larger…

* * *

When he finally opened his eyes, the ship was silent; only a few footsteps of the sentries on duty thudded from atop the deck. Zuko rose silently, gazing out of his small porthole in the side of the ship. It was dark out, but there weren't any clouds. The stars burned brightly, but the moon was in absentia. He sighed, weary, and put his lightweight training clothes back on. He stalked emotionlessly out of his room, down the hall, and out to the deck. 

It was a chilly night, but he kept warm; he was a Firebender. He sat quietly in the shadow of the high top of the ship and watched over the sea, his gaze endless and tranquil. It was as though he were in the eye of a storm, a storm of his own thoughts and problems and past and conflicts, all circling around him but none coming into the focused part of his mind where he sought sanctuary from all that had happened. It was too much for just one body to bear, it really was.

Zuko positioned himself to the west, the first rays of morning sunshine bursting through the horizon to all corners of the world. He observed as the sky exploded into color: pinks and oranges and yellows, with whippy little lavender clouds grazing across the multi-colored plain of the sunrise. For just a moment, he was drawn away from it all, and there was silence and peace that reigned the world. For just a moment, Zuko had a thought of clarity that wasn't disrupted by any of the other things that had happened. For just a moment, he thought, he _knew_, that the Avatar was right and would make the world right again, and that he, Zuko, would do what was right, what the Avatar was trying to accomplish.

He pulled himself out of the treasonous thoughts, his heart racing. What had he been _thinking_ last night? The Avatar could've been his! Had he really planned on just letting the Avatar go free once he got outside of Zhao's temporary stronghold?

A chill ran through his spine, one of fright and anger and guilt all mixed together. His emotions were smothering him and tormenting more than he'd ever felt before, even when he'd been exiled, even in the Agni Kai with his father. Never before had been so confused and _helpless_. This was a disaster, a nightmare. Why would it be happening like this? Why?

His eyes shot up almost like a reflex as he spotted the whitish blur in the distance. It grew clearer and clearer as the sun rose more and the day grew: it was a flying bison.

"The Avatar," he muttered under his breath.

His men were starting to stir and report for morning duty. He barked orders in their faces, telling them to go straight into the west. He didn't tell them of his reasoning, but he was sure they knew it was the Avatar, for surely they saw the Avatar's monstrosity in the distance.

Zuko didn't know what would happen if he caught the Avatar: could Zhao take the Airbender away from him?

He didn't care, he just wanted to get it over with. Something seemed wrong, though: when he'd been hit in the neck by an arrow, the Avatar hadn't left him for dead. Why was that, he wondered. He tried not to care, but it bothered him too much. He couldn't deal with his honor being tainted yet again; it was all so puzzling and mixed up to him, he didn't understand!

Zuko gave the order for his men to fire a great catapult once the bison was within firing range. Fireball after fireball flew over and under and past the Avatar's bison; Zuko was getting worked up, angered at how he was just failing, again and again and again.

This was all because of that stupid outburst about that accursed division of the army… Why, oh why, had he spoken out of turn? But the general had been wrong, and he, Zuko, knew that. Killing people was never right unless it was absolutely necessary. And it wasn't. It hadn't been. Killing people was almost _never_ right. This whole war wasn't right. Nothing was right in the world anymore to him. He had nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. So, he pursued the Avatar even harder and with more will than ever before.

Finally, a flaming mass hit the flying bison; the monster started to descend just a little bit. It was falling, falling, falling… The sight almost saddened Zuko, to see a beast of such majesty and greatness fall. Almost.

He yelled for the boat to be put to its maximum speed, and the ship was nearly right underneath the bison. It was falling, casting its dark, looming shadow over the waters. He gasped; he knew what was coming. But it was too late.

The flying bison fell next to and practically on the ship, creating monstrously large waves. There was considerable damage done to the helm of the ship, but Zuko had no time to think of this as waves swept over the deck and overboard. He struggled, yelling out, but his men were too busy trying to get the ship back upright for them to notice. It was chaos; the bison was barely conscious, and his ship rolled precariously on the tips of the waves.

One of the bigger waves brought him under, and he surged back up to the surface, trying to not panic and to think clearly. He spit out some swallowed seawater, gasping for air that had been deprived of him. The boat was getting father away, and the bison was swimming away with its last bit of strength, urged on by the Avatar. It was a strange thing to watch, the bison almost sinking, and then lashing its powerful tail against the waters to keep moving forward.

He heard a cracking of metal, and his eyes snapped over to where his ship was. He stared in shock as the ship splintered like wood and began to sink. He couldn't bear watching his only home for the past two years die on him like this.

Zuko turned away and dove underwater, swimming in no particular direction. He knew he was going to die out here, eventually, because there were no parts of the ship that would float; it was made entirely of metal. There may've been a lifeboat on board, but he highly doubted that his men would have the time to get it out.

He opened his eyes, and the salt stung at his eyes and his scar. He didn't care, though, for his senses were acute and he could see clearly; it was as if knowing that he was going to die had made him much keener than he already was. He'd heard of this before, of people living and knowing he or she was going to die. Living like you were dying, he'd heard it called. It really was an amazing sensation, this wonderful feeling of elatedness before death. It was much better to die not thinking about his honor and his conflicts than to be thrashing about wildly and still try to pursue the Avatar even so close to death. Every loyal Firebender of the Fire Nation would do such a thing, but Zuko was different. He had no loyalty left in him except to his men and his uncle, who he was sure were already dead or would die very soon.

He considered himself lucky that it was morning; the waters were warm in this area of the world during the day, but it got cooler at night, which meant he would surely die of the cold during the night. Or maybe he'd die of water deprivation before that. It was so ironic, to be surrounded by water and die of thirst. The thought almost amused him, and he smirked. Maybe he'd get so exhausted that he wouldn't be able to stay on the surface anymore. Surely _that_ would kill him. But he was fit, and had been through a lot; he was certain either the cold or lack of freshwater would be the cause of his death on this glorious, beautiful day on the ocean.

Zuko thought of drowning himself, just to save time, but he decided against it, for it was a stupid move. He knew it was hopeless, but somewhere deep in the bowels of his soul, he still hoped that a ship would pass or some of his men had survived in a lifeboat and would find him. He figured that he might as well wait it out just in case, but he knew it wasn't going to happen.

* * *

The day wore on, and the sun was high overhead. Zuko rubbed his shoulders, as they were starting to burn because of the lack of his usual armor over him. He was lucky to have such light clothing on; otherwise he would've sunk like lead when he'd first gone overboard. But sunburn still hurt all the same. 

He swam a bit more to the west nonchalantly. He saw a few gulls and other waterfowl high overhead once, but saw no other signs of life. It could've been just him and the water and the birds on this glorious dying day, the day when it all ended here and he moved on to the Spirit World. He would like to just stay here, out on the ocean, as a wandering spirit, alone and unnoticed. He'd love to just be here, at home on the ocean, his real home, with the salty water and the colorful sunrises and squawking birds. It wasn't a bad afterlife, he realized; he'd never have to encounter another human ever again, unless a ship passed this way on the Solstice, which he presumed was highly unlikely.

* * *

The day progressed on to dusk, and his throat was drier than a desert in a drought. He almost hoped his death would be coming soon; he'd seen no one, and even that little corner of his soul was being skeptical of his chance of survival. His limbs cramped and he was worn and tired. He debated with himself with a bit until he finally decided that it had to end. He'd enter the afterlife happily, staying in this remote area of the ocean, being really at home. He hoped he'd see his uncle maybe in the Spirit World. Well, at least he would be at eternal peace. 

He took one last glance around at the skies and the seas, and thought he spotted a small speck in the distance. When he looked at it, he knew it was hopeless, knew it was nothing, and took one final breath and plunged his head under the waves. He kept his eyes open, continually pushing himself away from the surface, admiring little wandering fish that swam by as his lungs screamed for air. He closed his eyes, a smile of genuine contentment on his face, and let the water around him do the rest of the work.


End file.
